


hold my hands, be my guide

by FullmetalChords



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6055300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalChords/pseuds/FullmetalChords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There are still some nights he thinks he dreams her.</i>
</p><p>Anders enjoys a rare night of peaceful rest in Hawke's arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold my hands, be my guide

There are still some nights he thinks he dreams her.

Tonight is one of those times. He doesn’t remember falling asleep… his last memory is staring at his latest sheaf of parchment, half the words scratched out, the quill slipping from his fingers. Anders remembers the dizzying feeling of sentences cycling through his head, too fast to get them down onto paper, the sensation that Justice is holding him upright and whispering some of those words (but not all) into his ear. He remembers the candles burning low on the table, remembers staring into the flame in meditation with the hope that the perfect words will finally materialize.

That’s the last thing he remembers. Yet Anders finds himself lying in bed now, early morning shadows sprawling across the floor, his coat draped over a high-backed chair and boots lying askew over the rich carpet. The tunic he’s left in feels soft against his skin – he inhales, finds it’s clean. His hair is loose and messy on the pillow, the mattress firm beneath his back.

And she is holding him.

Anders can feel her even though the muddled fog that his rare good night’s sleep has left him with. He can feel the rise and fall of her chest against his back, the length of her body pressed against his. She holds him close, even in her sleep, her fingers splayed against his chest, her warmth surrounding him. Her lips, parted, rest carelessly against the crook of his neck, her exhales tickling his skin.

He doesn’t dare to look back to see if she’s real.

There are times… not frequent ones, but there all the same… where Anders wonders if this part of his life is nothing more than a fantasy. That all the years of running, of hiding, of beatings and loneliness and pitch-black nights in a too-small cell, haven’t finally driven him mad. If over two decades of suffering have created this refuge for him, some safe place in his mind where he can retreat. It wouldn’t surprise him, at least. Hawke being real would be a miracle true enough to put any of Andraste’s to shame.

It’s tempting, like this, to drift off again and keep the illusion running a little longer.

But instead, he reaches. Hesitating just one moment, before sliding his hand over hers where it rests on his chest. His fingers find the gaps between hers as he presses her hand against him. He feels the calluses on her fingertips left from years of fighting, the way they catch against his own. The bones in her hands are slim, joined together by tough sinew – he counts them, touching each in turn, feeling breathless. And the way they tighten in his tunic, the way her breath grows louder in his ear… Anders can feel himself grow warmer as she pulls him that much tighter.

“I can hear you thinking.” Something rakes through his hair, brushing it back from his face. “I’d almost gotten you to sleep through the night, too…”

“So you put me to bed,” Anders murmurs. He keeps his voice low, not wanting the moment to shatter.

“You were passing out at the desk.” She stops carding through his hair, shifts to nuzzle his shoulder again. “You’re welcome.”

The corners of his lips turn up at that. “My back thanks you.” He hears her coo, feels her press a soft kiss to the clothed part of his shoulder. He still doesn’t dare look back at her, doesn’t even look down at her hand that he holds pressed to his heart. But he holds on tighter all the same. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Her free hand cards through his hair again, gentle.

Anders doesn’t know how to voice what he feels. That he’d all but resigned himself to a lonely fight and a violent death before she’d slipped into his heart. That he’d believed himself too monstrous for anyone else to touch, let alone love. That somehow, just by being in her bed, he feels as though the Maker has forgiven him for all the sins he’s committed, and all the sins he must one day commit.

But instead he tells her, “I love you so much.” The words crack in his throat, and she makes soothing sounds as she pulls him closer, moving so her face hovers over his.

“I love you too.” Anders blinks as red tangles fall into his face, and he brushes her hair back to see a pair of grey eyes steadily meeting his. Hawke looks down at him, love and concern showing in every inch of her expressive face, and he can’t help but reach out to touch her. She is real and alive beneath his hands.

“I want you to be happy,” Hawke goes on, hushed. Her voice is full of the honesty she only reveals when they’re alone like this. “You work so hard, you give so much of yourself to people who barely say thank you. So if I can help you… help you _rest_ …”

“You do,” he breathes, and that barely covers the surface, but he pulls her in anyway. “Oh, you do.” His open mouth finds hers, because his chest feels too full to express what’s in his heart through words alone. He’s been drowning his entire life and she’s done more than throw him a lifeline; she’s supplied air to his lungs again. Hawke picks him up and carries him back to shore, over and over again.

Her hands are tangled in his hair, touching his face, and it makes Anders feel cherished. It almost makes him believe that he could find the justice and acceptance he seeks, if only he could stay with her forever.

They part for air, reluctantly, still trading soft kisses as each holds the other close. “Don’t let me wake up,” Anders hears himself whisper. He rests her head atop her chest, his arms winding around her middle.

He feels soft lips press against his forehead and hears Hawke murmur into his hairline. “You are awake, love. This is real.”

He falls asleep to the sound of her heartbeat.

art by [heartbleats](http://heartbleats.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic features my custom Hawke, Natalie. The art above ought to give a good impression of what she looks like. ;) The art is not done by me, but by [heartbleats](http://heartbleats.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. It was commissioned by me and posted on my Tumblr and here with her permission. 
> 
> Basically this fic was born from me weeping over the finished art, remembering Anders's "I'm still terrified I'll wake up" line, and just. writing this. 
> 
> hmu up on [Tumblr](phoenixrei.tumblr.com)!


End file.
